Relentless We Stand Unto Death
by FireFly07
Summary: Nirnaeth Arnoediad, Huor POV. A lot of reflection.


**Relentless We Stand Unto Death**

My gaze swept around the battlefield. There were too many bodies to count, bloody corpses piled in heaps on the once-fair grasses. I was tired, weary, and my armor was making it harder to move around. But I'd just told the King of Gondolin to escape while we held his rear—and there was no taking it back. Not that I wanted to take it back—we would fight for our lands, unwavering until the end, when all of us were slain defending what we loved the most. That was the reason, and that alone, for our last stand.

Following my brother, I raised my spirits, and took up my axe. My men did the same, and we marched off to our doom. And at once, Morgoth's army appeared, and I knew that we were the last ones standing. Turgon and his people escaped, and all we could hope for was that he wasn't being followed. Meanwhile, the Orcs mingled in with the Balrogs, needing no more organization. The treacherous Easterlings of Ulfang bared their yellow teeth out as they advanced.

"Fall back!" my brother Húrin called out to our men.

We stepped backwards, swords drawn, wishing we hadn't been so confident all those days ago and been able to say proper goodbyes to those whom we loved. But it was a chance lost, and there was nothing we could do about it. Morgoth's army advanced, falling into the rhythm of our backward steps. I could sense the fear of my men—what am I saying? I was scared too. But courage is not absence of fear. It is but overcoming fear. We stopped moving back.

"Men of Dor-lómin!" Húrin shouted beside me. "We fight now to the death. We fight now for our lands, for our families, for our loved ones. We fight now, steadfast, and show our foes what we can do; what strength there yet is in the hearts of Men! Together, we will fight! Together, we will shame those beasts of Morgoth! Together, we will stand to the very last!"

Cheering arose from our army. I joined in, nodding to Húrin, and gripped my own arms.

"But listen!" Húrin continued. "We will fight, but we must fall back to the Fen of Serech! And there, we will yield no more. _Aur__ë entuluva! _My friends, day shall come again!"

When he had spoken, my brother turned to me. "Huor, you have heard my words. I wish I could assure you more, my brother—but I know in my heart that this is the last."

"Yet it makes all the difference," I told him. "Had we not told King Turgon to leave, there would most likely be no hope more for the Eldar, and the Edain. And I know I have spoken the truth—one day, from Turgon and I, a new star shall arise."

Húrin said, "I know it also. But, for now, we must fight."

The Orcs ran in first, waving their smoking scimitars around in the air. I felt my men tense, shoving their shields out in front of them, clutching their weapons with trembling hands, yet standing firm. We would stand firm to the death.

One of them practically barreled into me; I hewed its head off. Several more leapt snarling, but an axe is better than four scimitars, at least for that moment. Time seemed to run by slowly as the battle seeped in; I felt my axe smoke with dark Orc blood. And that was when the stronger ones descended. I twirled around, embedding my axe-blades into them, already wielding it two-handed. My eyes watered as the harsh air blew into me. I blinked repeatedly, unwilling to close my eyes for more than half a second for fear of being slain.

Unknowingly, we had reached the Fen of Serech. There was no giving way now.

I noticed that the Orc-archers had started firing. Some of my people were already cutting them down, fearing the arrows more than the Orc-swords. I moved forward, and crashed into a troll easily three heads taller than I. Evil chains in hand, it roared at me and released the heavy metal. I rolled on the ground, trying to get to its legs before it could hurt me. As I did so, one of my men probably thought I had been cruelly murdered, and rushed into the scene, yelling curses that I was shocked to hear. He took on the massive creature head-on. I screamed for the first time in my adult life.

"No! I'm still alive! Don't—it—no—"

His gaze locked with mine, and he dropped his sword. I yelled at him, demanding what the Udûn he thought he was doing, and the troll came down upon him. He was smiling as he was slain, knowing that he had died defending his Lord.

In the extreme guilt I couldn't remember the poor man's name, but I leapt back into action. I knew about those times when someone just gets really enraged because his friend had been killed. I certainly felt that way now, but I got a feeling that I couldn't defeat that troll. I sprang onto its reeking back (as far as I could go) and forced my blade into it. But it wasn't dead. It took up its weapon again, and I jumped off of it, feeling rather useless against the beast. I hit the ground, grabbed my friend's sword, and threw it point-blank into its stomach.

While it howled, I took the extremely dangerous risk: Following the sword was my axe, aimed at its neck. I watched nervously, knowing that I'd just used my only weapon, but years of stone-throwing back in the peaceful days had its rewards. The troll fell, and I was weak with relief as I pulled my axe from the huge, scarlet gash in its neck. I took some precious time to judge how the fight was going.

It didn't work out very well.

An Easterling was running towards me, sword raised high, eyes gleaming with victory. But it soon changed to fear. I wondered what my expression must have looked like. But it didn't matter. I killed him with an easy strike to his head. Many more seemed to come, and I fought, and took the lives of more than I cared to count. My head started to spin with fatigue as I realized it was the sixth day of the disastrous battle.

My legs cooperated once every two commands. I had to be grateful that my arms were working perfectly fine.

I thought I saw the Orcs diminish by a lot. And, suddenly, I wondered what would happen if we did win. Once we had slain the enemies, what would happen? I realized I was paying no attention to the Balrogs. So forget our victory. The only glory that we were destined to have was the glory of our last stand, not our triumph.

An oncoming Easterling knocked me out of my reverie. He was rather skilled; able to dodge my deadly blade. His sword flew forward, and I was very, very grateful that my legs hadn't responded, or I might have fallen with a sword impaled in my stomach. His look of surprise that his move had failed was replaced by one of annoyance. He hissed something I couldn't make out, but I continued to block off his attacks.

And then, I saw it. The thing that, a minute later, would take my life.

I slew the Easterling as the arrow whistled through the air. I couldn't save myself from it. It just flew straight in, and I actually admired the Orc who'd fired it. It was deadly accurate. I felt hot blood spurt out, and my face burned. The world was bathed in a scarlet wave. My heart beat fast, faster than it had ever beaten in my lifetime. I tried to cry out, but my voice failed. My teeth just clenched in pain, and, releasing my axe, I fell to the ground.

I didn't know if Húrin saw me. I didn't even know whether he was alive or not. I just knew that I would be dead in the next minute or so. And then, I wept.

The tears just made it more painful, but I didn't really care. I just felt that if I cried enough, it would all go away. The pain, the anguish, the guilt, the suffering. If I shed enough tears, I would be free from them all. I never knew that death felt so complicated: I didn't want to leave. What about Rían? What about Tuor? But it also felt peaceful; no more pain. I thought death was just a quick battle to be lost. I never realized what thoughts would be swimming through my head.

I thought I heard my brother cry out. It could well have been a product of my anguished mind, but I wanted to call back to him. Of course, I couldn't.

My senses were quickly fading. The only thing I was aware of was the heap of my men around me, guarding me even in death. And I sighed as I felt the pain ebb. The time had come.

Relentless I stood unto death, and I knew that in it, I would find peace.


End file.
